Meant to Be

In a previous post, I mentioned that I was meant to have started my rotation of library shifts last Monday night.  But I didn't share why that didn't happen.  It's been a ca-raaaaa-zy week since then, and sitting in the British Airways Business Lounge  at Heathrow, as I am now (more on that in an upcoming post), I'm taking the chance to catch up.

Last Monday night, I'd been home from work for about half an hour, when Boss Man called me.  He is very, very good in this regard, and even though being the college chaplain sometimes means I am sort of 'on call', Boss Man is extremely protective of my time and my 'off-time'.  That is, he doesn't call me at home except in dire emergencies.  Which this turned out to be.

We all meet strangers every day.  Sometimes, like my last 24 hours of hoofing it through four airports, we intersect with thousands of them in a single day.  But rarely do those strangers break down in tears, collapse in our arms, eat at our table, pray with us, and then go on their way.  This time, she did.

Ruth arrived at the college to stay a couple of nights while she did some literary research in the Manchester area.  When Ruth arrived on campus, she found a message waiting to call home  immediately, only to be told that her husband had been killed when his small private jet crashed.  Enter the phone call from Boss Man.

I went back to college to be with Ruth, whom I'd never met before.   I accompanied her to the airport to change her flights so she could get home ASAP.  Then we went back to college to call her son with flight info.  Then I took her to my house, for some dinner and talking and internet access.

It's amazing to me how much strangers can learn of each others' stories in the crucible of crisis.  In the space of a mere 5 hours, we learned about each others' marriages, careers, ministry experiences, children, family history and dynamics, etc.  Of course, Ruth did most of the talking, but she did ask me questions about all of that, I think as a way of trying to gauge the initial effects of the tragedy on her own life.

No one reacts to tragic death in the normal way.  That is to say, there is no 'normal' way of reacting to that kind of news.  Thankfully, Dr. Judi Schwanz had done a phenomenal job of preparing me for this in my seminary's Counselling for Grief and Loss class.  As a result of her good teaching, I was able to be with Ruth in those hours, in what I hope were helpful ways, without feeling I had to be responsible for directing her grief into 'healthy' avenues.  Ruth was mad, and that was ok.

That evening last week was just one of a litany of occurrences since I became a chaplain wherein I was conscious of my own inadequacy, and God's dear abundance.  I don't know for sure if Ruth even remembers my name.  She is now in the throws of picking up the pieces of her life after his death.  But I will always remember Ruth, and give thanks for the privilege of walking with her for a few hours.

I was 'meant to be' in the library that night, but didn't make it.  Ruth's husband did not die because it was 'meant to be.'  But I, and she, and you were 'meant to be' companioned by God, and He was with us on Monday.

Grace and peace.